


Love You Timelessly

by Snugglebuttkitten



Series: LYE [3]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: AU within an AU, Aged up characters, Gen, Mominette, No Hugo, Teenaged Emma & Louis, what if...
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-23
Updated: 2019-01-24
Packaged: 2019-10-15 06:39:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17523731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snugglebuttkitten/pseuds/Snugglebuttkitten
Summary: Sixteen years ago, Marinette Dupain-Cheng had a one night stand with a handsome stranger. Lost and alone, and with an angry fashion tycoon hounding her every step, the young mother-to-be decides the best course of action is to disappear. Enter Tara Lacrosse. This quirky, friendly fashion mogul sees something special in the shy young woman and knows that one day, Marinette will take the fashion world by storm. Wanting to be part of that journey, Tara offers to bring Marinette back to America as her Apprentice, and teach her the ins and outs of the fashion industry. Eventually, with little other choice, Marinette agrees. Now, sixteen years later the young woman has made a name and a home for herself in New York and couldn’t have been happier… until a family blonde Adonis sweeps back into her life and makes her life leap in a way it hadn’t in a very, very long time.





	1. Part 1, Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I was playing around with ideas for the LYE series and came up with this; basically, it is a what if Marinette had left with Tara all those years ago, instead of sticking around Paris. What if she and Adrien didn't meet when the twins were five? What if they met many years later instead?
> 
> Part 1 of this story will delve deeper into Marinette's pregnancy and her decision to leave; Part 2 will time skip ahead to when the twins are teenagers
> 
>  
> 
> WHILE THIS TECHNICALLY CAN BE READ AS A STANDALONE, I SUGGEST READING THE FIRST CHAPTER OF THE FIRST BOOK, LOVE YOU ENDLESSLY, FOR CONTEXT

Marinette Dupain-Cheng sat in her bedroom, disbelief pulsing through her. Lined up on the desk before her, no less than eight different pregnancy tests. It wasn’t true. Somehow, someway, she had just managed to buy eight very faulty pregnancy tests. That was it. That had to be it! Because surely, this wasn’t her life. She wasn’t pregnant with the baby of famous model Adrien Agreste, son of her idol Gabriel Agreste. Rising, she raked a hand through her raven locks and began to pace the length of her room rapidly. Okay. Okay, she could handle this. She would… she would go to a doctor. Yes, she would go to a doctor and they would do a real test and it would tell her what she already knew. Marinette Dupain-Cheng was  _ not _ pregnant. She wasn’t. She couldn’t be. Alya was wrong. Marinette didn’t remember a whole lot about that night with Adrien Agreste, but she wasn’t stupid. She had definitely used contraception. She had to have because she wasn’t an idiot. She knew the consequences and she had told herself long ago that she would put her career first, and worry about having a family later on. She didn’t want kids right now. It was too soon, she was too young.

“Marinette? You okay?” The knock at her trap door jolted her from her reverie and she turned, panicked, as it lifted up to reveal her best friend, Alya Cesaire. The redhead entered the room, hands twisting nervously as concern filled her hazel eyes. “Did you take the tests?”

“Y-yes,” the ravenette whispered, lips quivering as denial continually slammed into her. It was like a mantra coursing through her, repeating with every beat of her heart.  _ Not Pregnant. Not Pregnant. Not Pregnant. _

“What did they say?” Her friend urged gently, edging further into the room warily, like how one might approach a feral animal.

“I-it doesn’t matter. It’s not true. I just… I just have to go to the doctor and they’ll tell me what I already know. I’m not pregnant, Alya. I can’t be,” Marinette babbled, tears springing to her eyes as she desperately waiting for her friend to confirm that no, she wasn’t pregnant. Alya wasn’t the one to sugarcoat things though and the pity in her gaze spoke legions as she moved to the desk and stared morosely down at the tests lined up. Some had little plus signs, others had smiley faces, and others simply said Pregnant in bold pink or blue letters but the end result was all the same. Each one of them proclaimed what she didn’t want to hear and Alya sighed, turning to lay a hand on her friend’s shoulder in a show of solidarity and support. In this, Alya Cesaire would stand beside her friend no matter what happened, even if the situation wasn’t exactly ideal.

“What do you want to do, Mari? You know I’ll support whatever decision you make,” the redhead said gently, her soft voice coaxing the other girl’s downcast eyes to her own.

“I can’t be pregnant, Alya. I- I’m only twenty-one. I’m not ready,” she whispered, still clinging to the hope that this was all just a bad dream and she would wake up and find that everything had been returned to normal.

“I know, sweetheart. But this is real. This is happening and you need to make a decision. Do you want to keep the baby?” Alya pressed, determination entering her eyes. Marinette’s bluebell eyes widened imperceptibly.

“I- of course. I couldn’t- I wouldn’t-” She babbled, quieting when Alya squeezed her shoulder comfortingly.

“I know, Mari. I’m proud of you. I mean, I’m pro choice and would support your decision no matter what, but it still seems wrong, in a way…” Alya explained thoughtfully. The darker haired girl shifted, uncomfortable with the current subject, so Alya pulled her briskly to her feet and changed said subject, her tone taking on a business-like quality. “Alright, let’s get you cleaned up and I’ll set an appointment with a OB/GYN while you’re in the shower.”

Marinette allowed herself to be pulled unsteadily to her feet, still rather dizzy at the news that she was going to be a  _ mother _ , and pulled her best friend into a tight embrace. “Thanks, Alys. I couldn’t do this without you,” she whispered quietly.

“Nonsense. You can do anything you set your mind to. Now, get in the shower. You stink,” Alya teased, giving her a light shove towards the stairs. Marinette gave her a weak smile and did as she was told, hurrying down to the main level of the house and thankful, not for the first time, that her parents were too busy with the bakery to pay attention to what was going on upstairs. She would have to tell them, soon, but that could wait a little while longer. For now, she stepped into the bathroom and locked the door behind her, before cranking the hot water tap on full blast. Waiting for the the shower to heat up, her blue gaze drifted to the full length mirror on the back of the door. Turning, she pressed a hand against her flat stomach. Right now, there was a life growing inside her. A tiny baby that would rely on her and depend on her to take care of it, nurture it, protect it. She wasn’t sure if she had what it took to be a mother, but now that she was more or less accepting it was actually reality, she wanted to try. She wanted to be the best mother she could be, like her own parents. Right then and there, Marinette silently vowed that she would do anything in her power to protect the tiny life growing within her, no matter what the cost.

 

**Three Days Later - 10 Weeks Pregnant**

“Miss Dupain-Cheng? Dr. Rose is ready to see you, now,” the nurse said, scanning the waiting room expectantly. Marinette took a shuddering breath, the hold she had on her best friend’s hand tightening to a death grip. This was it. In a few moments, she would truly confirm that there was a living creature growing and forming in her. She rose, Alya rising with her, their grip never once wavering. The nurse spotted them and smiled reassuringly, perhaps picking up on the ravenette’s fears, and beckoned the duo through the doorway she stood in. Marinette had opted to wait to tell her parents until after her first ultrasound. Partially because there was a tiny bit of her still in denial that needed that last little bit of truth to get her to fully jump aboard the baby bandwagon. Partially because she just wanted to procrastinate a bit longer. Her parents would probably be so disappointed in her. She didn’t want to face that until absolutely necessary.

The two young woman were led to a small room with a gurney-like bed sitting beside a weird machine with a little screen and a million different odds and ends she couldn’t identify. The nurse instructed her to lay on the bed and promised that the doctor would be in shortly before taking her leave. Marinette did as she was told, staring listlessly up at the ceiling as Alya took the seat closest to the bed, her grip on her friend’s hand never wavering. They didn’t speak, each lost in their own thoughts, but the pressure created between their hands was a comfort in and of itself.  Eventually, there was a knock on the door that roused them from their thoughts and they simultaneously called out permission to enter, before sharing a look and dissolving into nervous giggles. The doctor smiled, bemused, as she entered to find the two young women lost in a fit of near-hysterical giggling but she brushed it off. It was actually a lot more common than one might think.

“Hello, ladies. My name is Dr. Janice Rose and I will be your OB/GYN. Marinette, I presume,” she offered a hand to the ravenette on the bed and shook the small hand hesitantly placed in hers. “And Alya, isn’t it?” This, directed at Alya as she offered her hand to the darker girl.

“That’s right. Alya Cesaire, best friend extraordinaire and future godmother and auntie,” Alya introduced herself confidently, her grip firm on Dr. Rose’s. “How did you know?”

“Your OB/GYN is a close friend of mine. Congrats on your future baby?” The woman, a slim blonde with warm chocolate brown eyes, asked with a grin. She could already tell the scared young woman on the bed had a marvelous support system, especially considering her best friend was only a few weeks ahead of her. That was good. Oftentimes young mothers were abandoned by their families and friends and it always saddened her to see.

“Thank you. We’re very excited to meet him or her,” the redhead said.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Alya. And you, Marinette. Now, is this your first baby?” She asked, already guessing the answer. The ravenette gave a short, anxious nod. “Alright, and is the father in the picture?” 

“No,” Alya answered for the mother-to-be. Dr. Rose nodded. She had guessed that much as well, given his obvious absence in the room.

“Right then, shall we get started? Marinette, can I get you to lift your shirt up over your belly? This won’t hurt, but the jelly can be a bit of a weird and often uncomfortable sensation, so bear with me,” she said, powering up the machine and readying her equipment as she had done thousands of times before. From the corner of her eye, she watched the dark haired woman lift her shirt, saw her hands shaking, and her eyes softened. Poor thing was understandably terrified. She understood. She had her first child out of wedlock when she was barely out of high school and the father hadn’t stuck around either. It was one of the most terrifying experiences of her life but she had grown and become stronger because of it and she felt the same could be said for this girl when all was said and done. She looked like a fighter. Turning, she spread the jelly across the woman’s stomach and picked up her wand. As soon as it touched the jelly, a fuzzy black and blue image appeared on the screen and a fluttering sound filled the room.

Dr. Rose listened thoughtfully, eyes glued to the screen as a perplexed look crossed her face. Beneath the wand, the young mother-to-be shifted with sudden nervousness and sat up a bit, using her elbows to support herself as she tried to see the screen. “Is it there? Is it okay?” She prodded, fear entering her voice as she looked uncertainly between the older woman and the screen. “I didn’t already kill it did I? I’m going to fail before I even began, omigawd!”

“Marinette, girl, will you chill out and let the doctor do her thing!?” Alya snapped, grabbing her friend’s shoulder and forcing her back down. Marinette did as she was told, fingers flexing against the thin paper beneath her as she awaited for an answer. Dr. Rose gave her a kind, hopefully reassuring smile as she wondered how to break the news to the young woman.

“You baby is fine, Miss Dupain-Cheng,” she finally said, her brow furrowing slightly as she glanced at the screen. “Or more accurately, your bab _ ies _ ,” she added with a rueful smile. The ravenette and the redhead balked, eyes stretching impossibly wide in mirror looks of shock and disbelief.

“ _ Babies _ !?” Marinette squeaked. “As in… more than  _ one? _ ” She double checked. Dr. Rose nodded confidently and set the wand aside before moving to clean up the jelly left on the woman’s stomach.

“Yes. Congratulations, Marinette. You’re having twins,” she confirmed. The two young woman exchanged looks that were an odd mix of horror and excitement, fear and joy. Alya, very helpfully, summed up what they were both thinking.

“Holy  _ shit _ .”

  
  


**Two Weeks Later - 12 Weeks Pregnant**

“You’re  _ pregnant _ !?” Tom Dupain and Sabine Cheng chorused, disbelief echoing in their tones. It was a warm, Sunday afternoon and as with most Sundays, the bakery was closed and the Dupain-Cheng family were sharing a breakfast together in their living room. Marinette had decided it best to break the news on the day they weren’t working, and had already procrastinated far too long, so the first chance she had gotten she unceremoniously blurted it out. Not her finest moment, but it was too late to back out now. She shifted awkwardly under her parent’s scrutiny. Her mother very slowly lowered her fork back to her plate, the food it held forgotten. Her father just stared at her, eyes bulging, with a croissant halfway shoved into his mouth.

“Surprise?” She asked nervously, fishing the sonograms out of her pocket and handing them to her mother. The microscopic blobs weren’t really identifiable, but they were the first visual proof she had that she was actually pregnant and she had taken to bringing the pictures just about everywhere she went. Sabine Cheng took the pictures, her shock dissolving into warmth and affection as she flicked her gaze up to her mother.

“How far along are you, sweetheart?” She asked gently.

“Twelve weeks,” Marinette responded, laying her hand on her stomach. She was just barely starting to show, the baby bump barely visible unless you really squinted, but it was  _ there _ and feeling it brought Marinette more peace than fear by this point. After the first ultrasound, it hadn’t taken her long to fully embrace that she was pregnant with twins and though she was still scared shitless, she was also incredibly excited to be starting her journey to motherhood.

“Who’s the father!?” Her father sputtered, coughing and choking around the croissant in his mouth. Frowning her disapproval, his wife plucked the pastry from his mouth, dropping it to his plate as she pounded him on the back.

“I don’t know. It was a one time thing,” she partially lied. She wasn’t yet sure she wanted to tell Adrien that he was going to be a father, and until she decided she didn’t want to tell anyone who he was less they try to take matters into their own hands. Tom Dupain scowled, disliking her answer, but was stopped from voicing his opinion by the gentle touch of his wife’s hand on his wrist.

“You said twelve weeks? You don’t know the baby’s gender, then?” Sabine Cheng asked, already imagining a perfect, cherub faced little boy or girl running around the house.

“No, I don’t know their genders yet,” Marinette said casually. Her mother started to nod before pausing, surprising crossing her face.

“Did you say  _ their _ genders?” She asked. Marinette grinned and nodded.

“Mama, Papa… I’m having twins,” she breathed.

  
  


**Three Weeks Later - 15 Weeks Pregnant**

Marinette groaned, dropping her head to the desk with a resounding  _ thud. _ At fifteen weeks, she was suffering dreadfully from morning sickness. What they  _ didn’t _ tell you was that it wasn’t really morning sickness. It was really  _ all day every day sickness _ . It was three pm and her stomach was twisting itself in knots, yearning to expel what little she had had for breakfast and lunch. It was unpleasant, to say the least, and it was distracting her from her classes. Another wave of nausea slammed into her and she groaned quietly, willing class to start already so that she could get it over with and go home for the day. Instead of granting her that small mercy, the chair beside her was pulled out and a body slipped unobtrusively into the seat. She mentally sighed. Great, not she was going to disturb someone else from their studies with her moaning and groaning as well. Closing her eyes, the young woman buried her face amid her folded arms and prayed for a swift and painless death. Beside her, her tablemate was silent, but Marinette could almost  _ feel _ their gaze drilling into the side of her head. She shifted deeper into the darkness her arms and hoped they lost interest soon.

No such luck. After her stomach gave another warning heave that had her groaning and gagging on bile at the same time, a gentle hand pressed between her shoulder blades. “Are you okay? I can walk you to the nurse, if you want,” a warm voice offered over her head. The voice sounded older than she was expecting, definitely older than the usual Fashion University student. Rolling her head to the side, the young woman peeked one eye up at her new tablemate and almost leaped out of her seat as recognition hit her. This wasn’t another student or a teacher aid… it was Tara Lacrosse, owner of  _ Madame Lacrosse Fashion House _ , one of the  _ biggest _ fashion houses in America. And Marinette was about to be sick.

Face undoubtedly turning an unhealthy shade of green, she jumped to her feet, chair clattering noisily as it toppled over. The sound drew the gazes of her classmates, but she didn’t care in that moment. With a hand clamped over her mouth and another over her stomach, Marinette fled the classroom. It was through some sheer stroke of luck that the woman’s bathroom was practically right next door and that with classes about to start, it was currently deserted, because Marinette didn’t have time to close or lock the door as she lunged into the closest stall, dropped to her knees, and promptly lost the meager contents of her stomach and then some. She heaved until there was nothing left in her stomach, and then because her body so clearly hated her she dry heaved until her face was pale, her skin was clammy, and everything ached. Tears tracked down her cheeks as she leaned her head against the wall of the stall, struggling to catch her breath before the next round inevitably began.

“That was impressive. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen someone move that fast while trying not to vomit,” a voice stated drolly behind her. Marinette stiffened, watery blue eyes stretching impossibly wide, to see none other than Tara Lacrosse leaning against the stall door frame and watching her with a mix of pity and sympathy. If her throat didn’t hurt so much, Marinette would have squeaked in mortification at having one of the most famous Fashion Designers in the world watching her throw up. Seeming to guess at the girl’s embarrassment, the woman smiled not unkindly and stepped closer, offering a hand. Marinette hesitated before sliding her hand in hers and allowing herself to be pulled to her feet, stomach momentarily placated.

“I’m so sorry you had to see that, Madame Lacrosse,” she began gushing as the older woman led her to the sink and began wetting a paper towel. “It’s just that I’m-”

“Pregnant?” The older woman interrupted, a knowing smile alight on her face. “Child, I might not have kids of my own but I know a pregnant woman when I see one.” Marinette gave her a weak smile, accepting the wetted napkin and using it to clean around her lips before leaning forward to swish water about her mouth. She would need to return to the classroom soon and grab her mouth rinse, but for now she was okay. The nausea had all but evaporated, thankfully. Turning, she took a moment to study the woman before her. Tara Lacrosse was a small woman, not much taller than Marinette, with a shock of spiky lavender hair and warm caramel skin. Her golden brown eyes were open and friendly and brought a smile to the younger woman’s face.

“Yes, with twins,” she admitted ruefully. Tara’s face broke out into a broad grin, flashing dimples as she beamed at the younger woman.

“That’s fantastic, congratulations,” she said, placing a hand on her shoulder and guiding her back towards the classroom. The ravenette gave a small smile and nodded.

“I’m kind of in that weird state between scared and excited but yeah,” she agreed shyly. Tara nodded in understanding and the two fell silent as they returned to her seat. The older woman flashed her a conspiratorial wink before slipping off to the front of the room to join the Professor, no other words spoken between them. After that, the day was pretty much the same as usual. The class was on the History of the Fashion Industry and their Professor had decided to bring in Tara Lacrosse in order to to do a detailed account on the History of Fashion in America. It was a very interesting segment, a nice reprieve from French Fashion which Marinette had grown up with, and as their guest speaker spoke, she found herself pulling out her sketchbook to sketch a few designs that catered more towards the American approach. It was interesting to see the different trends that various countries had and she was quite enjoying herself when a shadow fell over her table. 

This time, she really did squeak, twisting around to find that Madame Lacrosse was now hovering over her shoulder, a thoughtful look on her face. The other students were silent, watching her with varying degrees of jealousy and indifference at the fact that the young student had clearly captured the designers attention. She shifted, uncomfortable under their scrutiny, and tried to focus on the woman behind her, as opposed to her classmates around her. “Have you ever designed American Fashion before Miss…”

“Dupain-Cheng. It’s Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Madame. And no, I just saw the pictures you had on the slide and thought I would experiment with them while you spoke,” she admitted shyly. Tara reached for the book but hesitated before grabbing it, a question in her golden brown gaze. At Marinette’s nod, she picked up the book and inspected them closely. There were three pages, each with three to four roughly sketched images. There were dresses, tuxes, and casual wear, all of which would need to be greatly touched up and improved upon before final sketches were made, but she liked to think it was a good start considering it wasn’t even an assignment.

“You have a sharp eye, Miss Dupain-Cheng. I especially like this one,” she gestured to a simple but elegant dress that fell above the knees in front but which fell to her ankles in the back. A high-low dress like this one, if designed properly, would be an excellent addition to her portfolio. Madame Lacrosse placed the book back in front of the student with a nod of approval. “Keep up the good work,” she said, sweeping away to continue her lecture. Marinette sat stunned, ignoring the disgruntled looks shot her way. Tara Lacrosse,  _ thee _ Tara Lacrosse, liked her work! Surely the day couldn’t get any better than that.

In the days that followed, Tara Lacrosse showed up in Marinette’s classes often. Not just in her History of the Fashion Industry class, but also in her Intro to Fashion Design and Cross Stitching and Embroidery 101 classes. It didn’t take long for the young student to notice that the fashion mogul paid her special attention, often hovering to watch her work in either her sketchbook, or when she was working on a new piece. It was a little disconcerting, having such a well-known designer take such blatant interest in her work, but Marinette wasn’t complaining. She was thrilled to know anyone enjoyed her work. Having that person be a famous designer was simply an added bonus.

It was on the fifth day that Tara Lacrosse stopped the young student as she was about to leave University for the day. After a day full of classes, Marinette was tired and achy and just wanted to go home and take a nap, but she couldn’t exactly say no when the older woman asked her for coffee. Tara led Marinette across the quad, chattering animatedly about New York where she currently lived. Marinette listened avidly, intrigued because she had never been outside of France and New York was a place she had always wanted to visit if she had the chance. Tara was more than happy to indulge her, talking about all the best (non touristy) places to visit, the best places to eat at, and how amazing Central Park was this time of year. Or, as she teasingly noted, any time of year. It was obvious the older woman was passionate about her home and she respected and admired that.

The two purchased coffees and found a secluded corner, luckily managing to snag the last two available armchairs. Between them, a fire crackled warmly in the fireplace and it made the atmosphere warm and cozy. They were halfway through their coffees and pastries when Tara suddenly cleared her throat and set her cup down on the table. Marinette followed suit, sensing the other woman had something important she wished to speak about and wanting to give her undivided attention. “Marinette, do you know why I’ve come to Paris?” She asked suddenly, lifting her golden brown gaze to meet Marinette’s cerulean one.

“I mean, there have been rumors but I didn’t want to indulge in them without hearing it from the source,” the ravenette hedged. The lilac haired woman studied her thoughtfully before giving an approving nod.

“Let me settle any curiosities you might have then, my dear. I plan on moving to France. Not immediately, but in a few years time. I came here early because I want to find an apprentice to bring back with me to America. Someone who knows French Fashion, but who can also adapt easily to American Fashion. That person is  _ you _ , Marinette,” Tara Lacrosse said, leaning forward to place her elbows on her knees and resting her chin on her clasped hands. She blinked at the younger woman earnestly, waiting for a response. Marinette was properly shocked and she blinked, dumbfounded, at the older woman across from her.

“M-me?” She asked nervously.”B-but I’m… I’m not-”

“You  _ are _ , Miss Dupain-Cheng. You have a spark about you I would be hard pressed to find anywhere else. You looked at a few images on a projector and  _ immediately _ adapted and designed an outfit that fit the American Style while still being completely unique to you,” she pressed with an admiring grin.

“I don’t know what to say, Tara. I’m flattered but… I’m probably going to have to drop out as it is. I have to think about the twins; get a steady job. They have to come first,” she explained apologetically.

“I know, Marinette. I understand. I’m not asking you to be an unpaid intern, but my personal Apprentice. Let me guide your entrance into the Fashion Industry. I can get you transferred to a college in New York. They have housing for new mothers available low cost and you will be compensating just as if you are a new Designer, which will be more than enough to afford living costs,” she assured.

“My family, all my friends are here. I can’t leave them,” the young woman denied, regret flashing in her blue eyes. Reaching out, Tara took the younger woman’s hands in a tight grasp and looked at her imploringly.

“I know it’s scary, Marinette. I’m asking you to leave behind your support system for the unknown but I  _ promise  _ you, it will be the right choice. I will be your support system. Anything you need, you have only to ask and I will ensure you have it. Come to America with me, Marinette,” she breathed. Marinette stared long and hard at the woman across from her. This was the opportunity of a lifetime and she would be crazy not to accept it… but she would also be crazy to accept it. Leave all she’s ever known for an unknown job, in an unknown country? It was reckless and impulsive, but oh, she wanted to say yes.

“Can I think about it?” She asked, fingers twisting together anxiously.

“Of course. I’ll be here for another month. Can you let me know in the next three weeks? I’ll need a bit of time to get your transfer paperwork completed and get you into student housing, but if needed you are welcome to stay at my place until they ready an apartment for you,” she assured with a confident smile, not even considering the possibility that Marinette might refuse. The ravenette took a shaky breath and finally nodded.

“Okay… I’ll let you know in three weeks,” she promised.


	2. Part 1, Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marinette reaches a decision with mixed reactions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I literally had two chapters worth of this story just sitting in my google docs folder lol Now that I'm caught up with editing and posting, chapters will slow down in favor of focusing on the main story but I will till get chapters out occasionally. This series will likely have the two main books, possibly a third featuring teenage Emma and Louis, and likely a few other spinoffs.

**One Week Later - 17 Weeks Pregnant**

Marinette sat at the kitchen counter, forehead pressed against the cool countertop as she perched awkwardly atop a barstool. At the stove, her mother was busy cooking breakfast and Marinette had mixed feelings about this. On the one hand, she was absolutely starving. She had already puked up everything she had eaten the night before when she woke up a few hours before, and that had left her feeling quite famished. On the other hand, the smell of cooking food was causing her stomach to lurch unsteadily. It was ridiculous. Couldn’t she be hungry  _ or _ nauseous? Why the hell did she have to be both!? That just seemed extra cruel, in her opinion. Her mother was busily cooking eggs and while they were something Marinette had come to eat almost daily during her pregnancy, smelling them was a whole different experience. Why did eggs smell so weird while cooking?

“Marinette? Are you okay, sweetie?” Her mother asked, perhaps hearing the quiet groan that escaped the young woman. Marinette lifted her head and blinked, finding her mother hovering on the other side of the counter, spatula in hand, as she stared worriedly at the boneless heap of young adult before her.

“Peachy, maman,” she mumbled, giving her a thumbs up and dropping her head back to the countertop with a loud  _ thwack! _ Another groan ripped from her throat as her head throbbed painfully and she was quite certain that she would have a mark there when she lifted her head. Maybe even a bruise. That was just what she needed.

“Maybe you should go lie down, sweetheart. I’ll bring your food upstairs when its finished,” she offered. 

“M’kay,” the dejected girl agreed. Before she had a chance to move, the doorbell rang drawing both their gazes towards the front hallway. When Marinette moved to slide from her stool, Sabine waved her off. She set the spatula aside and wiped her hands off before hurrying to open the door. Marinette laid her head back down, too weak to even consider moving right now, and half-heartedly tried to listen to the muffled voices coming from the doorway. Her mother’s voice was easily distinguishable. The other two, a male and female, were not so easily placed but she was too tired to think on it for longer than necessary. She turned her head, keeping her ear pressed to the counter and her hands folded loosely in her lap, as the voices drifted closer.

“Marinette, honey? There are some people here to see you,” Sabine said, stepping into the room followed by a tall, slender woman in smart business attire and an equally tall man with his face schooled into a look of severe displeasure. She squeaked, shooting up ramrod straight as recognition crashed into her, and nearly toppled out of her chair. Gabriel Agreste was standing in her living room. Gabriel Agreste, he idol, the most  _ famous fashion designer in all of Europe _ was standing in her living room… and she was wearing a ratty jagged stone tee-shirt and a pair of threadbare pajama pants.

“M-Monsieur A-Agreste! It’s an honor to meet you, sir,” she squawked, earning an amused look from her mother. Sabine shuffled into the kitchen and pulled the eggs off the burner before unobtrusively slipping from the room and leaving Marinette, alone with her idol, in her absolute worst pair of pajamas. Fan-freaking-tastic.

“Miss Dupain-Cheng, I presume,” the woman suddenly said, stepping forward although her eyes never once strayed from the tablet held firmly in her hands.

“Y-Yes, ma’am,” the young woman whispered nervously, tongue darting out to wet her lips as her gaze bounced between one adult to the next.

“My name is Nathalie Sancoeur. And you already know my boss, Gabriel Agreste,” she stated. It wasn’t a question but Marinette found herself nodding rapidly in response.

“Y-Yes, of course,” she assured.

“Do you know why we are here, Miss Dupain-Cheng?” Nathalie asked.

“I don’t, sorry,” the young woman said, fidgeting nervously as her gaze bounced between the other woman and her idol.

“It has recently come to our attention that you’ve had…  _ relations _ … with Monsieur Agreste’s son. Is that true, Miss Dupain-Cheng?” Nathalie asked coolly. Marinette could feel her skin flush at the question, eyes widening in mortification, but she mutely nodded. The woman released a world weary sigh. “And are you aware, Miss Dupain-Cheng, that Adrien has spent the last four months searching for you?”

“H-He has!?” The girl squeaked, eyes somehow managing to stretch wider still.

“Yes, Miss Dupain-Cheng, he has,” Nathalie deadpanned, a hint of impatience entering her tone as she stared down her nose at the petite woman before her.

“Um, wow.. Okay… If I may be so bold, why are you telling me this?” She finally asked after gathering her thoughts. Miss Sancoeur sighed again, seeming to wish she were anywhere but there in that particular moment, but she answered nonetheless.

“Monsieur Agreste is willing to pay you quite handsomely to ensure you never seek Adrien out. He doesn’t have time for silly distractions,” she explained.

“I’m a silly distraction?” Marinette asked, brow furrowing in confusion as her gaze bounced once again between the woman and the silent man behind her. Was this some kind of a joke? She really felt like this was some kind of joke. Was she being pranked? It didn’t seem like Miss Sancoeur or Monsieur Agreste knew that she was pregnant. Had they really just come here to tell her to stay away from a man she wasn’t even sure she wanted to get back into contact with? Realistically speaking, if she had wanted to get ahold of him, wouldn’t she have made some attempt already. It seemed pretty extreme for them to seek her out now.

“Yes, Miss Dupain-Cheng. You are. Surely you can’t expect a young man of Adrien’s status to enter into a long-term relationship with a young lady of your… er…  _ social standings _ ?” The brunette arched a brow as before her, the ravenette’s face burned with embarrassment and anger.

“Now just wait a minute! What give you the right to come into my home and judge me just because I’m not rich or powerful like  _ him _ !? She snapped, sliding from the barstool and stabbing a finger accusingly in Gabriel Agreste’s direction. The pair stared at her, seeming surprised by her outburst, before their gazes shifted down to her stomach. Marinette followed their gazes and  _ eeped _ when she realized her shirt had ridden up when she got off the barstool. She tugged the black fabric back over her prominent baby bump, cheeks burning.

“Miss Dupain-Cheng,” Gabriel Agreste finally spoke and his voice was deathly quiet, sending a chill straight down the young woman’s spine as she returned his hard stare owlishly. “When you and my son had  _ relations _ you did behave like responsible adults and use  _ protection _ , did you not?”

“No, Monsieur Agrest, we did not. Still think hiding me from Adrien is a good idea?” The ravenette asked, a hint of sarcasm entering her voice as she scowled at the man before her.

“How much?” Gabriel deadpanned, the question throwing Marinette for a loop. She blinked, confused.

“What do you mean?” She asked warily.

“How much do I have to pay you to destroy that… that  _ thing _ , Miss Dupain-Cheng?” The man before her practically snarled the words, stepping closer until he towered over her slight frame, pale blue eyes blazing. Marinette shrank back, eyes wide at the sudden aggression the man was showing.

“Y-you can’t be serious,” she whispered, hoping and praying that this was just some sort of twisted joke.

“Oh, I am deadly serious, Miss Dupain-Cheng. My son will not father the bastard child of a  _ baker’s _ daughter,” he sneered, scorn dripping from the word ‘baker’. Marinette bristled, anger momentarily pushing her fear aside as she glared up at the man before her.

“Get out,” she snarled. Gabriel and Nathalie both balked at the unexpected defiance the young woman was exhibiting, but she didn’t give them a chance to say anything before she continued. “Get. Out. Get the FUCK out of my house!”

“Be reasonable, Miss Dupain-Cheng-” Gabriel began, but Marinette cut him off with a withering glare.

“You have two seconds to get out of my fucking house before I go public and tell the whole world that I’m carrying Adrien Agreste’s children,” she threatened.  
“ _Children_?” Mr. Agreste asked slowly. Turning to face him fully, Marinette gave him a smile that was really just a baring of teeth. A snarl, really.  
“Yes. Children. The plural of child. Congrats, Pops. You’re about to be the grandfather of twins!” She spat, silently relishing in the horror that crossed the man’s face. He was quick to compose himself.

“I don’t think you’re listening to me, Miss Dupain-Cheng. I am a very powerful man. I can, and will, ruin you and your parents if you so much as breathe a word of this atrocity,” he snarled, eyes flashing with barely suppressed rage. “Get rid of them, or get the hell out of France and away from my son. Fail to do that, and I will ensure you  _ never _ work in fashion and that your parent’s little bakery goes bankrupt,” he threatened.

Marinette stared at him, dumbfounded, as tears burned behind her eyes. He was serious. Gabriel Agreste really would go to any length to ensure that his son had nothing to do with Marinette or her children. The man sent her one last withering look before turning and stalking out of the room. Nathalie loitered, setting a business card on the counter. “Please give me a call when you reach a decision, Miss Dupain-Cheng,” she said before following her boss without another word. Marinette stared at the business card for a long moment, and before she could stop it the dam burst and great, heaving sobs wracked her body. What on earth was she going to do now?”

  
  
  


**One Week Later - 18 Weeks Pregnant**

Marinette once again found herself in the doctor's office, Alya and Nino at her side as she waited for Dr. Rose to make an appearance. At this point, Marinette was no closer to making a decision about what she was going to do than she had been when Gabriel Agreste walked out of her kitchen a week ago. Realistically, she knew she couldn’t get an abortion. Like Alya, Marinette was pro-choice but an abortion wasn’t something she could ever imagine herself doing. Abortion was so… permanent and besides, she had already come to love the children she was carrying. That also removed the possibility of adoption. She didn’t want someone else to raise her children and besides, what if they were separated? She couldn’t bear it if that were the case. No, Marinette was definitely keeping both children which left her with two options. She could go to the police with no proof and hope for the best… or she could leave town and raise her children away from Gabriel Agreste and his son.

“Good morning, Marinette. How are you feeling today?” Dr. Rose asked, sweeping into the room with a wide, warm smile. Marinette shoved her worries and fears to the back of her mind and smiled warmly in response to her doctor’s greeting.

“Pretty good today,” she assured.

“How’s the morning sickness? I know you said it was getting pretty bad,” the older woman asked, busying herself with getting her machinery ready.

“It’s been pretty mellow this week but it tends to come and go at random times,” the ravenette admitted, already tugging her shirt up to expose her stomach. 

“Yes, that tends to happen with new mothers. It seems to hit you extra hard though. You’ve probably had one of the worst cases of Morning Sickness that I’ve seen in awhile,” she admitted, spreading the jelly over the woman’s bare stomach. Her eyes flickered up and she smiled warmly at the couple standing beside the bed. “Welcome back, Alya. And who have you brought with you?”

“This is my boyfriend, Nino,” Alya introduced.

“It’s nice to meet you Nino. Are you two ready to find out if you’re having Nieces or Nephews?” She asked warmly. On the bed, the mother to be perked up.

“We can really find that out?” She asked hopefully.

“As long as the babies are in the proper position to see, yes. You’re eighteen weeks along,” Dr. Rose said with a grin. “Would you like to find out the genders, Marinette?”

“Yes, absolutely!” Marinette said enthusiastically. Dr. Rose glanced at the other mother-to-be with a smile.

“I heard you two found out the gender of yours a few weeks ago? Congrats on your baby boy. Have you picked out a name, yet?” She asked curiously, eyes drifting to the screen as she placed the wand in the jelly smeared across the young woman’s stomach.

“Martin Taylor Lahiffe,” Alya said as the strange double heartbeats began to pulse through the air, drawing four sets of eyes to the screen. Dr. Rose shifted the wand, bringing two blurry looking blobs into view. The doctor helpfully pointed out features of the twins and finally set the wand a side with a pleased look.

“Congrats, Miss Dupain-Cheng. You’re having a boy and a girl,” she said warmly. The mother-to-be beamed widely, eyes sparkling with unshed tears. She was going to have a son and daughter. A wave of unadulterated love washed through her as she stared at the now blank screen, tears spilling over and trickling down her cheeks. In that moment, Marinette once again vowed that she would do anything in her power to protect the innocent lives within her, even if that meant leaving behind everything she knew for the unknown.

  
  
  


**One Week Later - 19 Weeks Pregnant**

“You’re  _ leaving _ !?”

Marinette winced as Alya’s shrill voice seemed to echo off the walls of the small apartment and gave her friend an apologetic look. It was Sunday once again and this time, Marinette had asked Alya and Nino to join her and her parents for Sunday brunch in order to break the news. She was leaving France. In two weeks, she was going to board a plane with Tara Lacrosse and move to an unknown country, where she barely knew the language, to make a life for herself. A life where she would be free of Gabriel Agreste’s wrath, where her children could grow and flourish, and where her parent’s bakery would be safe from harm. Even if her family and friend’s didn’t realize why this was for the best, at the end of the day she knew this was the right decision. Hadn’t she wondered if Adrien Agreste was better off without her and the kids anyway? He was rich, famous, and could have anyone he wanted. He probably didn’t even want anything to do with her or their kids.

“Sweetheart, when did you even speak to this… this Madame Lacrosse?” Sabine asked shakily, obviously trying to be the calm one in the room considering Alya and Tom looked like they were both about to have aneurysms and though quiet, Nino looked pale and shocked.

“She was a guest speaker in my class a few weeks ago, Maman. She thinks I have real talent and wants to take me on as an Apprentice. She says she can have me transferred into a school in New York, and that she will help me get into student housing,” Marinette explained, silently begging her to understand.

“Nette, this is a big decision. Are you sure this is what you want?” Nino asked gently, moving to place a hand over hers in a show of support. Marinette smiled gratefully at him. She had known Nino since they were preschoolers and he was the closest thing she had ever had to a brother. She would miss him almost as much as she would miss Alya.

“Yes. It’s a great opportunity, and I could learn so much from Madame Lacrosse. And New York is so diverse. I could really learn and grow as a Designer by studying the fashion there,” she insisted honestly. Nino searched her gaze before giving a nod.

“Then you should go. We’ll be here when you decide to come home,” he promised, squeezing her shoulder warmly.

“Nino!” Alya protested, glaring at him through teary hazel eyes. Nino shot her an apologetic look and shrugged helplessly.

“It’s what she wants, Alys. We can’t stand in the way of that,” he pointed out gently.

“You’re really leaving, Mari?” Tom suddenly interrupted, looking utterly heartbroken as he stared down at his only child. Marinette nodded slowly, her own tears springing to her eyes.

“Yes, Papa. I don’t want to miss this opportunity,” she whispered. He nodded, accepting and understanding her decision, and when he opened his arms she immediately stepped into his embrace. Brunch was pretty smooth sailing from there. It didn’t take long for the sad atmosphere to dissipate into warmth and laughter as they talked about baby names and what Marinette would see and do in America. Alya and Nino ended up staying for the day and they alternated between watching movies, playing video games, and just talking. Dinner was an amusing affair as everyone except Nino, who couldn’t cook to save his life, tried to pitch in and help out in the tiny, overcrowded kitchen. Daylight stretched into nighttime and no one showed any signs of leaving or calling it a night.

Marinette stood by the kitchen counter, a bowl of popcorn clutched in her hands, and she smiled as she watched her little family. Sabine sat on the couch, smiling indulgently as Tom and Nino bickered amicably about what to watch. Alya sat on the floor at Sabine’s feet, reading some news article on her phone. Their family was small, but it was hers, and Marinette knew she would miss them dreadfully when she left. But she also knew that her parents and friends would come visit. There would be Christmases and Thanksgiving and they could email and call and text whenever. She would keep them updated on the twins with pictures and videos, Alya and Nino in turn would keep her updated on Martin. Everything would be different, but the relationship she shared with her friends and family didn’t have to.

Looking up, Alya beckoned her closer with a grin and Marinette returned to look as she moved to sit beside her friend, leaning into her as she passed the popcorn to her father and snagged the remote. Nino whined in protest, but fell into a contented silence when she turned on Spider-man and settled back to watch the movie. Alya’s arm eventually snaked around the smaller girl’s shoulder and they leaned into each other, heads pressing together contentedly as they watched the movie. A feeling of peace washed over the two young mothers-to-be. Here, in this moment, everything was as it should be. Tomorrow, things could go to hell but in this moment at least, everything was just perfect.

It was a few days later that Marinette sat down with Tara Lacrosse. They were back at the cafe, drinks in hand, sitting in the same two armchairs by the fireplace. Marinette could tell the woman across her was nervous, less confident than she had originally been when she had first proposed Marinette moving to America, but she was polite and didn’t press the issue. Instead, they talked about school and the finer points of the French Fashion Industry and how it had changed and adapted over the years. Marinette had always had a deep interest in history, so delving into the history of her favorite subject was no hardship. Halfway through their drinks, Marinette suddenly set her cup on the table between them and Tara followed suit. The younger woman fidgeted nervously, fingers twisting together until her companion took the initiative to broach the subject.

“You have made a decision?” She asked, not bothering to dance around the subject. Marinette hesitated before giving a slow nod of agreement.

“Yes. If you’ll still have me… I would like to go to America with you, Madame Lacrosse,” she finally said, and it was like a weight was lifted from her chest. She breathed a sigh of relief at having finally said the words that had been weighing so heavy on her soul. Across from her, Tara Lacrosse beamed brightly like a child on Christmas morning.

“Fantastic! You won’t regret this, Marinette. I’ll make all the arrangements necessary. You’ll love America,” she said warmly. Marinette smiled, nerves bubbling just below the surface, but for the first time she believed Tara when she said she wouldn’t regret this. For the first time since she had made the decision, it truly felt like the right decision, and for that she was eternally grateful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think!

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think!


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